Walk For Me: Club Avalon Book 4

by Kay Elle Parker

  She found the string, gingerly pulled on it. It didn’t move, so she tugged again, harder this time, and felt a perverse sense of satisfaction as it came out. Wrinkling her nose, she disposed of it and tried to remember Connie’s explicit directions.

  By the time the new one was in place, she was questioning everything she knew about women, and wasn’t quite sure she wanted to be one.

  “Are we all set, princess?” Atticus called from the bedroom.

  She dragged her legs back together, then pulled the shirt’s hem over them. “Just washing my hands, Daddy.”

  Water rushed into the sink as she turned the tap on, dutifully lathering and rinsing her hands thoroughly. She glanced up and over towards the door as Atticus filled it, then switched the tap off and dried her hands on the fluffy pink towel beside the basin. “All done.”

  “So you are, good girl. Ready for bed now?”

  “Are we having sex tonight?”

  His step faltered for half a stride as he came to pick her up, then a smile flicked his lips up at the corner. “Eager, little princess, aren’t you? Or brave, I should say, considering what sex means to you.” He sighed and bent to kiss the top of her head. “No, not tonight. Sleeping is more important.”

  “Sleeping won’t make you happy,” she said with a pout. “I don’t mind. I can be quiet if you want. I know how to make the noises if that’s what you prefer.” She tried to emulate the sounds her father had liked her to make, but they hit her ears wrong, like a strangled owl’s death woos.

  “Baby, I hate to tell you this, but those are not attractive noises.” Atticus lifted her, and she slid her arm around his neck. As he carried her from the bathroom, he murmured, “When I touch you, you won’t be in control of the sounds you make. When I make you come all over my fingers and face, your moans and cries will be completely organic.”

  All right, she couldn’t disagree with his opinion. The last thing she wanted to be was unattractive in his eyes. Her stomach flopped as he did his white knight routine again, this time sweeping her out of one bedroom and into another.

  She was slightly concerned about what he intended to do with his face, though—she knew exactly what men did with their fingers and dicks, but what was he planning to do with his face?

  That question zipped from her mind as her eyes locked on his bed. He’d used her time in the bathroom with Atticus-level efficiency, she realized. The covers on the massive bed were turned down neatly, exposing midnight blue sheets, and Mr. Bear sat like a king in the crease between the two sets of pillows.

  Her wheelchair was beside the bedside table. A glass of juice was on the polished wooden surface, and there was a unicorn nightlight plugged in, casting a warm, dim glow over the room. It smelled just like Atticus.

  “You did this for me?”

  “I don’t see any other little girls around here.”

  The sheets were cool on her skin, the pillow giving her a shiver as her head nestled into the chilly plumpness. She watched Atticus as he arranged her legs comfortably and then adjusted her shirt so it covered her thighs. “This is strange for me, you know.”

  “Undoubtedly.” He tugged the covers up to her shoulders. “Is it making you anxious?”

  “A bit. I, ah, haven’t done this before, so I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do.”

  Atticus tapped her playfully on the nose. “I’m going to have Stop Worrying tattooed on your forehead, princess. There’s nothing you need to do but close your eyes and go to sleep. It’s really just that simple.”

  “But it’s not. I mean, do you want to snuggle? What’s the difference between snuggling and cuddling? Do we sleep together, like touching? Or on separate sides of the bed? What if I touch you or you touch me? Does that lead to sex or do we just brush it off as—” The crush of his lips silenced the endless ream of questions spinning in her brain and firing from her mouth.

  “Good Christ, girl. Give that busy head of yours five minutes to cool down.” His beard tickled her cheek as he rubbed it against her, then he straightened and rounded the bed, stripping off his shirt as he went.

  Alicia’s mouth went dry, not a drop of spit to be found. Daddy Atticus without a shirt was the Holy Grail for women—firm muscles, defined from use at a guess. He wasn’t a man who worked out for show. Those muscles of his, from shoulders to waist, were the calling card of a guy who was accustomed to physical exerts.

  The top of his upper chest was lightly layered with dark hair, scattered through with lighter ones like his beard. It narrowed to a thin trail that arrowed down past his waistband.

  “We can cuddle—or snuggle—if you’d like to. I know I would, very much, but it’s not an issue I’m going to push right now. I’ve waited a long time to have my little girl in my bed, and now that you’re here, just having you next to me is enough for now. Sex isn’t an option—not tonight.” Slowly, he unbuckled his belt, drew it from the loops on his jeans until he folded the length of leather between his hands, snapping it gently. “Don’t ask again, princess. My legendary patience is stretched thin enough around you without that sweet voice of yours bringing up sex all the damn time.”

  Her teeth bit into her lower lip. That was promising, wasn’t it? He wasn’t telling her she couldn’t make him happy with sex, just that it wouldn’t be tonight. Her eyes widened, roaming over his body as he popped the button on his jeans, lowered the zipper, and let the material fall into bunches around his calves. A quick kick from each foot, and the only thing he was left wearing was form-fitting, green, and showcased a bulge at the crotch that was totally proportionate to his size.

  “A-Are you taking those off?” Alicia whispered as he approached the bed.

  He paused, one thick black eyebrow lifting in surprise. “I think being naked might be too much of a temptation for a certain little girl, don’t you?”

  She fluttered her eyelashes at him, even though her eyelids were starting to grow heavy. “No?”

  “Mmmn-hmm. All right then.” Atticus’s broad shoulders shrugged, and his thumbs hooked in the waistband of his underwear. His eyes never left her face as he inched the fabric down.

  Lower, lower, lower…

  Alicia swallowed dryly, following the painfully slow descent. The first thing she saw clearly was the neatly trimmed dark hair over his pubic bone. Her breathing grew erratic, then hitched audibly when his cock escaped the confines of the underwear and literally grew as she watched.

  Holy fucking God.

  Material hit the floor, was kicked away to join Atticus’ jeans, but Alicia just clutched the covers and blinked. Her father would have been threatened by her Daddy, she thought in shock. Abraham would’ve killed Atticus simply for having the biggest dick in the room.

  And that sucker was…well, she had no comparison.

  “Should I be worried you’re so quiet, princess?” he asked, sliding into the empty space beside her and stretching out.

  Belatedly, she reached over and slapped her hand over a pair of dark, innocent eyes. Mr. Bear did not need to be corrupted by Atticus’ unapologetic masculinity. “I’m just wondering how you walk around with that between your legs every day without kneecapping yourself.”

  His laugh was thick, rich, and delighted. “Here I was thinking you’d be scared. It’s not that big, Alicia. It’s moderately sized.”

  She’d never admit to being intimidated by it. If she did, he would never have sex with her, and he’d look for someone else to make him happy. She didn’t want to satisfy him on only one level—her heart was screaming at her to do everything in her power to keep him. “My parents used to smoke a bong that didn’t come close to your penis size.”

  “Taking into account that bongs do in fact come in all shapes and sizes—just like penises—that’s not a helpful reference, princess.”

  Huffing, she picked up Mr. Bear—keeping her hand firmly over his eyes—and placed him on the bedside table next to her juice with his back toward the bed. Trying to keep her tone neutral, she asked, “
Do you get many complaints about it?”

  “Nothing on file so far. I doubt very much you’ll have any either.”

  Alicia twisted her upper body so she could see him more clearly. Her eyes drifted from his face and amused smirk down to the half-erect cock. It wasn’t just the thick shaft that caught her attention or the heavy balls she’d seen. She supposed women were designed to assess these things to find the one that suited their needs most for continuing the species.

  Diane would have concocted some sick plan for Atticus if she’d still been breathing and seen his God-given gift. Probably would’ve organized some kind of woman-versus-woman wrestling match with the competitors in a ring, greased up in bikinis, fighting to the brink of death for a chance to ride him as their grand prize.

  Her mother had loved money, blood, and drugs more than anything else.

  She snapped out of her thoughts when Atticus flipped up the covers and rolled onto his side. Her moan of disappointment was more audible than she liked, and heat crept up her neck into her face. The flush deepened when he grinned at her.

  “Close your eyes and get some sleep, princess. If you’re a good girl while I’m working tomorrow, we’ll talk about what you’d like as a reward.”

  “You’re working tomorrow? Downstairs?”

  “Unfortunately. Something urgent has come to my attention, so I’m calling everyone in first thing. It shouldn’t take too long.” Beneath the covers, his hand slid across the short distance between them and found her chilly one.

  Alicia took it, joining her fingers with his. Part of her—a small, cynical part—couldn’t believe that a man would be able to control his urges when in the same bed as a woman. Physically hampered or not, she was still a woman, with the female anatomy men used to get off. She was expecting to be woken at some point through the night with his cock digging between her legs, but she was okay with that.

  At least she’d be able to see Atticus’s face in the dim glow of the nightlight. She’d rather look into his eyes and see him than remember the expression on her father’s face as his body pushed deep inside hers, sweat dripping from his nose, his chin…

  She almost gagged. Bad, bad mental imagery.

  Instead, she wriggled herself into the mattress and exhaled slowly, quietly. Abraham was long gone, rotting in his coffin beside his wife. He couldn’t interfere with her life anymore, and she had to learn how to keep him away.

  “You’re shaking, Lisha.”

  “I’m okay.”

  His thumb stroked over the back of her hand, hitting a sensitive patch of skin that felt wonderful. Back and forth, back and forth, the rough pad doing things to her nervous system that cancelled out her anxiety.

  Her eyes drifted closed, and something inside her swayed with the rhythm. Losing itself in it like a dancer abandoning herself to the song. Her lips relaxed into a faint smile as Atticus began to hum softly, and the wordless melody guided her along the path into sleep.

  Chapter Eleven

  It was inevitable really.

  Atticus’ internal alarm woke him at just after five a.m. There was a delicate form tucked in the cradle of his arm, a lean back pressed against his chest. His disobedient cock nestled in the crack of Alicia’s ass, prevented from rooting further only because of the tail of her shirt.

  He’d left it on her for a reason.

  Warm, half-awake, and enjoying the feel of her against him, Atticus cursed the necessity of rising. He kissed along her scalp, just above her ear, smiling when her sleepy murmurs followed. One day soon, he wouldn’t leave the bed to stop himself from claiming her—he’d slide into her from behind, hitching her leg higher for deeper penetration, and she would wake feeling loved.

  Today, however, there was war to plan, and the eradication of a blight on society. His teams would be arriving promptly at six, and Atticus had taken the unusual step of calling in not only his primary team, but every man and woman he had at his disposal.

  Field crews, tech teams, research drones.

  In twenty-four hours, he intended to take down the Bang Bangers and their psychotic leaders. His police contacts had given him information on the gang on the downlow, but they were officially tied to obeying the laws they’d sworn an oath to—this operation was one they couldn’t get involved in.

  Atticus slipped out of bed, rolling Alicia gently onto her back and tucking her in. She gave a little whimper, a soft snort, then quieted. He slipped Mr. Bear under her arm, gave her a quick kiss, then strolled into the bathroom and straight into the shower.

  The first burst of cold water shocked him completely awake. No dregs of sleep remained, releasing Mercenary Atticus in Daddy Atticus’ place. He lathered and rinsed, dealt with the stubborn erection that wouldn’t abate even with the cold.

  By the time he was dressed, he had a plan in mind. Moving to his office, he flicked the light switch twice, triggering the faux wall to the right of his desk to slide aside and summoning the elevator. From his bottom desk drawer, he chose several items, then took them with him as he stepped into the elevator car and pressed the button for the next floor down.

  The journey was short and smooth. The moment the door swooshed open again, Atticus was on the move, striding out into the corridor beyond. He turned right, walking down to the conference room where he’d instructed everyone to meet, and was pleasantly surprised to see that he wasn’t the only early bird catching several worms.

  “Do you two make a habit of using the conference room table in this manner?”

  Anarchy lifted her head, her face bright red, and tried to speak.

  “Forehead on wood, Anarchy,” Jasper ordered harshly, yanking down her linen pants. His sub was on all fours close to the edge of the table, her fingers trying to bite into the surface. “I won’t be but a minute, Atticus. A certain kitten is just about to learn to keep her claws sheathed when she’s told to do so.” The sadist stripped off his belt and folded it in half, wrapping his long fingers around the buckle end. “Didn’t think you’d be here yet.”

  “Got a lot to do today. Sorry I cut your weekend short.”

  “Duty calls, brother. The text you sent was light on details. Everything okay?” Leather cracked on flesh, and Anarchy yelped viciously. “You’re taking ten, kitten. Perhaps next time you’ll refrain from talking to me as though my opinion doesn’t matter.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she moaned.

  Atticus grinned and ran a hand over his beard as the belt swung again. Archie’s punishment rained down on her upturned ass in quick succession, a flurry of blows that would leave her bottom glowing and hot. “Finished yet?”

  “Just one more.” The intensity in Jasper’s pale eyes was slightly intimidating, the focus in them absolute. The angle of his swing changed, coming up between Anarchy’s spread thighs to slap wetly on her exposed pussy. The sadist’s grin was wolfish as his sub’s scream rent the air in two. “Now, kitten, apologize to Atticus for disrupting his morning, then pull your pants up and ask him if there’s anything he would like you to do.”

  Blonde hair fanned out over the table. She really did make a pretty picture, although Jasper had the best view. Slowly, Archie lifted her head up, blowing hair from her face. From the tear streaks on her cheeks, Jasper hadn’t been lenient with the belt. “I’m sorry for messing up your morning, Master Atticus.”

  “No damage done, Archie.”

  “Good girl.” Jasper patted her backside firmly, presumably right on the strap marks if her squeal of outrage and pain was anything to go by. “Pants up, kitten.” He helped her off the table, then left her to follow his order as he moved to stand beside Atticus. “We have a situation?”

  “We do. I’ll explain everything once the full team arrives, but you should know there’ll be wet work involved in this. If you and Anarchy decide you want out, I won’t blame you. I didn’t hire either of you to get your hands this dirty.”

  Jasper tapped his thumb on his lip thoughtfully, then seemed to remember his belt and began threading it b
ack through the loops on his pants. “Might not have started out that way, but we’re part of the team now, Att. If this gets bloody, I don’t want to think one of our friends might get injured because we weren’t there helping. Butterfly wings and all that shit.” He rolled his head on his neck. “Is it Dominic?”

  “No. Thomas and Isaac have reported nothing new in Hong Kong yet. We’ll find them, J, I promise. Dominic and Rita will pay for what they did to you.”

  Anarchy sidled up to her Master, looking sorry for herself. When he held his arm out to the side, she threw herself against him, burying her face in his shirt. She didn’t relax until Jasper pressed a kiss to her hair, murmuring something only she could hear.

  “Well, whatever you need us to do, we’re here.” Jasper jerked his chin at the things Atticus held in his hands. “I know a regretful kitten who would be pleased to take those where you need them.”

  Sniffling, Archie took the cue. “Is there anything you’d like me to do for you today?”

  “You can set up the break room next door for Alicia, if you wouldn’t mind, little bit.” Atticus passed her the items, then gestured to the small room adjoining the conference space. “Make sure she has plenty of juice, and she needs her breakfast. Something healthy,” he added when Archie didn’t say anything, “but you can raid the kitchen upstairs for anything we don’t have down here.”

  The break room was a ten by ten square box with the team’s supply of coffee, snacks, and sodas for meetings. It had a small table in case anyone needed to split off and take an unrelated call or respond to a client in private, and once the door was shut between the two rooms, the soundproofing kicked in. The glass window was five by three, which gave him a clear view.

  “I’ll see what I can find.” Archie left them alone, skirting around the conference table and going into the break room.

  “Hmm. Not content to leave your girl upstairs during a briefing when this house is the safest you can find anywhere in Arizona. Either you’re completely lovesick, Att, or we’re all coming here to discuss Alicia.” Jasper lifted one white eyebrow in question.